Homecoming
by Shagel
Summary: Wanda wants to be with her brother even if he is dead. Because he is her only home. Maximoffcest - beware.
1. Chapter 1

-Wanda… Wanda... - she hears soft whisper and turns head, she knows he's here somewhere, but cannot find. - Wanda. - The voice crumbles into dozens of timid echoes stratified each other, and ends with a loud roar in her head. -Wanda.

Wanda shudders and opens her eyes. Sun-bleached blond eyelashes are gold in midday light and sweaty sheets stick to the back. She bites her lip and turns face to the empty place in bed, no one is there, of course, no one will be there.

-Wanda. - She is repeating after the voice in her head, it sounds wrong, hoarse from sleep, is not right. She touches the pillow, cold, not crumpled, as if it can draw her back to sleep, or fix something or .. Or what?

Ultron said that people are fragile like glass. Clench a bit – they crumble immediately. Dreams are exactly the same.

Sleep retreats, hiding in the darkest corners of the unconscious, leaving sticky with fear and trembling echo of a voice calling her again and again. It dies and returns back again, like a toothache, throbbing, radiating to the head.

Wanda gets out of bed, diving naked body in the cold air of June, dropping covers to the floor, and it is covered with dark red fabric under her feet like a puddle of blood. How tragic it is, she snorts, how sad, and throws covers in the corner with a kick, out of sight, and promises to take it back as soon as she calms down. For sure.

Wanda strolls in the apartment, slams doors; it gives the impression that she is not alone. As if it can brig Pietro back. Her fingers touch tattered red leather jacket, then walk to a brand new Avengers form, and return to the old clothes.

They even smell different, they smell of it. Warm powdery scent of iris, she wants to inhale it until gets dizzy. She remembers the moment.

They stand at the counter hand in hand, Pietro tries to not laugh, pretending to be her boyfriend, and she is looking for a new perfume, because she is a girl, because she likes scents, they carry memories, and she wants to find that one to be always connected with Pietro.

"You can`t. That's weird. "- Laughs Pietro, wrinkling his nose. "It's really kinda crazy."

She doesn`t pay any attention, all of it is absorbed by dozens of colored bottles at the shelves: "We are twins, after all that we've done - it is the last thing you can call weird." - Fingers run quickly from one scent to another. - "Besides, it's just the smell. I'm not going to paint your nails black, even if you ask, because it is really strange. But one scent for two - it's just one scent, nothing more. It's just ... I want it. Here. I like this. "

They leave the store, without buying anything, laughing and holding hands so tight, as if tomorrow will never come, and Pietro disappears in a second, then appears with a pale light green transparent vial, with slight smell of irises.

Since then, when he disappears in one second, faint trail of vetiver and iris follows him.

Wanda shudders and takes a step back from the closet, shuts the door and stands still for a while, forehead resting on the door, staring ahead blankly.

-Wanda ... Wanda… Wanda ... – something is throbbing in her head, crying, - you promised.

They say when somebody close to you dies, the bitterness of the loss kills the senses, and you are left alone with yourself. But when the twin dies, the feelings don`t disappear. And you cannot stay alone, it`s more like a part of you is cut with a blunt knife, and you're doomed to exist in this flawed form like an invalid without hands or feet, not knowing where is it gone, because you lose some part of yourself. Half of it.

Sometimes the pain recedes, and Wanda tries to live, piece by piece, hiding the suffering behind distractions and coldness. But not today.

She draws the bath full of cold water, and sits there, shivering and chattering teeth, listening to the water drops falling monotonically, drip- drip - drip. They shatter still surface of the water, rippling, like transparent tears. Then she sinks with her head to the bottom.

"Take it off. Now!- They tumble into the bathroom. Pietro holds her by the shoulders firmly, she is shaking, not because of the cold, but of the pain, big bloody stain is growing on the torn dress, big, wet, black on red.

"Get out." - She moves parched, rather pale lips, grimaces and sits on the edge of the tub awkwardly. "I can handle it on my own."

"Hell yeah, Wanda. You got a hole in the stomach, you bleed, and a maximum that you are able to handle is to deal with your own sarcasm. "- Pietro is flashing in the air like lightning, he peels her jacket off so quickly that she doesn`t even has time to blink, reappears with scissors and bandages, then once again with a needle and towels, bottles and fresh towels are growing on the washstand, and Pietro is still on the move, emitting a smell of concern and the cold concentration that can easily be mistaken with indifference.

"Do not even think about it!" - She presses hands to her chest firmly, holding the bloodied clothes by the sleeve, knowing it won`t stop him. A moment later she has no more dress on her.

"I hate you." - She clings to the edge of the tub with last remains of strength, not knowing whether to fall back, with a risk to split head on the tile, or forward into Pietro`s hands. Who knows what is worse.

"Join the league. Whatever. "- Pietro freezes besides her, holding with one hand while the other is gently stroking her cheek. He looks at her firmly, as if trying to transmit at least a drop of strength through the eyes. "It is going to hurt. Pretty much. "- He takes a bottle of alcohol and splashes on an open wound lavishly.

Wanda shouts, trying to restrain, but cannot, the pain is much stronger than anything that can be suppressed, until she finally finds something to keep her from insanity, she clings her teeth in Pietro`s shoulder fiercely and squeezes, more and more, until fiery circles start dancing in front of her eyes and the mouth is full of blood, pain rages in the head, and all the only thing that keeps her from driving crazy and losing control - is the Pietro`s scent, blood mixed with iris. She watches him sewing her wound, chaotic and flickering movements - needle, thread, bandages, patch.

They lie in an empty bathtub. Together. Embracing. They hardly fit in it. Half of her body is on fire, numb from the amount of painkillers he has stuck in the ribs.

Wanda is watching a bite on Pietro`s shoulder she has left, swollen, distinct, and bruised. She almost died today. But all she can do for Pietro, who has pulled her out of the battle - it hurt him.

"I told you - I hate you." - She even doesn`t know whom she hates. Him or herself? How can you hate something that is a part of you?

"Yes." - whispers Pietro, running his good hand through her hair absently, kisses the top of her head, then the forehead. "Nobody knows it better than me." - He looks at his shoulder, knowing she is looking too. A strange feeling of union, a terrible secret for two. "You have to promise that you'll keep it that way. And when or if I will not be here ... "

"Moron." - She whispers to herself, raising her face for kisses. The forehead, temples, eyelids.

"Then you find me and tell it once more. In order not to forget. "

"Why would I ... You wait." - His kisses go down, to her cheeks, and she thinks she could try to reach him to the shoulder, to kiss the bite. That's all she can. No, she could, if not the pain. Dull and aching pain in her side doesn`t let her even move, not that reach, all she has now is to close eyes and get lost in the ocean of unsteady and dreamy calmness. She won`t, will not try to read his mind, no way, she cannot help but touch it, reading the hidden fear. Anxiety. Pain. Acute affection. Love.

"Wanda." - He stops her from her secret study. "Promise."

Wanda comes up out of the water, breathing in sharply and opening her eyes. She looks in front of her, staring at the gold pattern tile, but in the corner of the eyes, just a little bit sideways, sees the flickering air, blurred movement and smells the scent. The same scent surrounds her. Irises.

She's afraid to turn her head so as not to disturb the harmony of this vision. Pietro kneels at the bath, reaching out his hand.

Still afraid to move, slowly she stretches out her hand over the rim of the bath, black nails and with all wet palm touching her brother`s hand.

She does not believe in anything. She believes in promises.


	2. Beautiful crime

At first Pietro comes in just to say goodnight before going to bed. Leaning against the doorjamb, he stays there for an hour, just looking at sleeping Wanda curled in the middle of a huge bed, like a tiny shell in the sand. He spends more and more time with every night looking at her white face, shimmering in the dark, tangled hair falling over the forehead, as she tosses in sleep, but makes no move, not a single tiny movement or step to take it away. There are lines he is afraid to cross. There are things he can`t catch, no matter how fast he is.

After that night with a wound in her left side Pietro finally makes a step forward and sits at her bedside all the night. First he sits at the wall, leaning against it, immersed in darkness, focused on sister`s breathing, that`s the only thing important here and now. Then, we moves closer and closer and finally falls asleep near her bed, with the head resting on the hands next to her hand.

-You don`t have to... - she says into the darkness, knowing that he is here, frozen like a thief caught in the middle of a robbery, she can read his thoughts - confusion, embarrassment, a tiny speck of shame, almost hidden in an ocean of concern.

-Yeah. - Pietro shrugs, hardly separable from that darkness, which hides him. - Anyway, you can always snap your fingers and make me fly out of the window, or do some other magic tricks.

-I know something better. Come here. –she reaches out her hand.

Since then, they sleep together, tangled bodies, tied into a knot, Wanda sleeps resting in his hands, he lays legs on hers, she wakes up with him above her, covering her body like a human shield, that`s all for him – she says to herself. It`s the only way to stop his anxiety. The only way to calm Pietro down. But then, when lying in the dark and listening to his steady breathing, inhaling and exhaling in unison, Wanda matches the beating of their hearts, touches his temples, imagining beautiful dreams, and then realizes it is not just her problem anymore.

Sooner or later they will become something more, united, complete, and in her dreams Wanda sees her hands becoming transparent, diving into his body, grow inside and their bodies finally merge into one.

-You don`t have to worry, - she says one day, lying in bed next to him and staring at the ceiling aimlessly.

-About what?

-We can`t just ... disappear. You or me. People are searching for someone all the time, and we don`t need to. We have already found. - It's really pretty simple. No matter who was the firstborn, some ten minutes earlier, they are inseparable. Their thoughts are tuned in unison, sometimes it's difficult to understand whose feelings they are.

-Oh, Wanda. - Pietro turns his face to her: - But I`m already gone.

She wakes up in sweat, still in the bath, the water became warmer, and she just got used to it, the same monotonous sound of droplets hitting the water, soaked hair stir in water like algae, live, smooth, and silence still surrounds her.

-I hate you, hate you, hate YOU! - She repeats words, silently screaming, just a little bit and she will explode of the overflowing anger, splash it out with the bathwater.

Pietro was always with her before. He could comfort her. Now he is gone. Wanda can`t bear it and finally shouts loudly, leaning back, her head smashes in the edge of the tub, blood is trickling down the neck and back, but she can`t stop until bottles, candles and towels start falling down the shelves and a hefty crack runs the mirror with scattered tiny sliver lines of glass web.

-Where are you, damn you! Where the fuck are you, when I need you?! - Wanda is choking with words, anger, pain, pulls the body out of water, barely moving feet, clinging to the door frame, and leaving a wet footprints, she drags herself to bed to fall down. She has no more strength for anything else.

She could stand six months, steady and calm, before was fed up with it.

She collapses on the bed, closes eyes and hears soft whisper:

-Wanda ... Wanda… Promise. – She kept it, now she finally can fall asleep.

She wakes up in Pietro`s hands, they are warm and strong clenching her as if she is going to disappear, and Wanda can`t help but intertwine their fingers , pressing in his body with a force as if to fuse in it.

-What`s wrong ... - she hears brother`s quiet and sleepy voice. – Everything fine?

-Bad dream. - Wanda smiles nervously; she thinks that in fact everything turned into a very bad dream, the one you cannot wake up. - Just a dream.

She looks at his chest rising and falling slowly, Adam's apple moving smoothly and hardly restrains the desire to touch the skin, with open palm; maybe she would be finally able not to let him go anymore? Would she?

Her fingers run on the uneven scar left by her teeth, it is almost healed, still slightly standing out above the skin, whitish, oval-shaped.

-What IS wrong, Wanda? - She looks up and sees Pietro looking at her too attentively for a sleepy one.

-Nothing. – She responds and pulls up, covering his mouth with her. - Nothing ... – Wands breaks away for a moment to catch a breath and then kisses again, – at all. – The remembrance of the imaginary pain "torn half of one soul" is too strong to retreat.

The desire to heal this wound is so big, strong and unbearable, that she doesn`t immediately realize that he is responding to her kisses, his will is bigger than she would have expected. She no longer needs to rip up his thoughts, prying, they flood her mind now, it`s like an ocean she can`t absorb at once, and Wanda gasps. Head is dizzy and hands clutching his shoulders are numb of strong and fierce kisses. Her fingers bury in his hair, slide on the hot skin, soft and moist with sweat, Pietro turns her over, pressing down under his body, then lets go, and she is on top again, they are tangled into a knot and break kisses to breath in and burst back into the darkness of intoxication.

-Take it off, - she orders, happened to be on top again, and helps him, tearing a gray T-shirt off his shoulders eagerly, she can't lose a second now. The fabric is ripping and Wanda smiles with a corner of her mouth, bites Pietro`s lip to the blood, she knows he is much as impatient as she is.

She reads his mind, knows he has been waiting much longer, her half-year is a drop in the ocean of his patience, and allows his feelings fill her empty starving mind, further and further, until finally chokes with desire.

They are so far away from brother- sister now, from some common lovers' relationship, naked, glistening with sweat, panting, they look like one human who found himself finally. She touches him where he wants to be touched, but he doesn`t even have to ask. She throws the neck back and allows him to kiss her throat, bite the skin of shoulders, and she doesn`t even have to ask. Wanda runs fingers over her shoulder, displaying for his teeth and Pietro bites so violently, leaving an uneven bloody oval that she emerges from insane abyss of desire for a moment and contentedly notes the similarity of marks- scars on their shoulders. Now they definitely are similar, Wanda thinks falling down on her back and clenches legs on Pietro`s back, crosswise, as if protecting him, or nailing.

-More, - She knows she has started this and he will obey, so sets the rhythm of their movements. She controls minds, increasing sensations and lengthening every tiny movement, every spark of pleasure into a long thread, weaving them all together never to be divided.

Two minds merge into one, solid, strong, alive, when she gasps shuddering from the sharp pleasure, shared with him, pressed her forehead to Pietro`s, intertwining fingers in the final paroxysm of passion, and immediately loses all strength, leaning back in his hands weak and trembling.

There`s only one thing left to know.

Pietro smiles, removing disheveled locks from her face, nothing has changed for him, it`s not necessary to touch his mind, no more.

-If or when, - she repeats his words, - you will not be around, where can I find you? – Wanda raises her faces for Pietro`s kisses, forehead, temples, eyes.

-Then you have to go home. - Pietro kisses her cheekbone tenderly. - We can always meet there. Secret place, remember?

She remembers.

Wanda slowly traces the bite on her shoulder; it hurts enough to understand - it's real.

Wanda wakes up, gets out of bed, and walks slowly to the bathroom; she is looking at the broken mirror, reflecting dozens of identical blue-black bites on her shoulder.

She is smiling, touching the swollen skin.

It's time to go home.


	3. Chapter 3

-Don`t act like you`re going to die and somebody has to save you right now. – says Vision, shaking his head in annoyance.

Wanda turns at the direction of his voice:

-Why do you think I need to be saved? - She is looking into his eyes, but thoughts carry her away far into the dark room, where two suitcases are waiting for her, but she doesn`t know why she packed all the things. She won`t take anything with her.

-You're wearing old clothes.

Wanda smiles with the corner of the lips, a fleeting shadow slips on her face:

-Then pretend that I'm already dead, and you don`t see me.

Vision frowns. Sometimes he seems to understand people just a little. But Wanda and her tricks and strange words are out of his understanding.

Wanda leaves, with a faint smell of irises, and somehow Vision thinks she will not return any more.

-Heey. Is there anybody here? - Wanda enters the old house, floorboards are creaking loudly under her feet, flowing dust glitters in rays of the sun through dense fabric curtains.

The house is abandoned, but does not seem uninhabited, it is not empty, now when she's here, it's like an old creature, after a long sleep, finally woke up and is listening to her steps.

Wanda looks at old photographs on the mantelpiece, she is with Pietro everywhere - they hold hands, he hugs her shoulders, they stand back to back, she leans over him, one of her hands is in his hair. Just them. No parents, no friends or acquaintances.

Stepping over piles of books, fragments of furniture, touching dusty table and leaving long trail on it, Wanda goes to the bathroom. There she sit down, still in her dress, in the old rusty bathtub with no water in it, curling up and closes eyes.

They sit cross-legged on the floor beside the bed; Pietro rests his elbow on the mattress and looks at her lazily:

-So, - He drawls.- You're back.

-Yeah. You know, I`ve been thinking, and I still can`t understand, being able to get into other people's heads, read thoughts, make people do something, create imaginary worlds, but still being completely unable to do something for myself? These abilities are totally useless. - Wanda says, propping chin and shaking her head. She looks at the dust flowing in the air, at the bed - they were hiding under it, and for a moment comes an unbearable desire to check whether their bodies can still fit the space under it now if they lay down next to each other, hugging, holding hands.

-So sure? - Smiles Pietro.

-Shut up and kiss me. - She moves closer.

The world is always narrowed to the size of a pinhead; one small room is enough, when they are together, everything else does not matter anymore, they won`t notice its disappearance.

Pietro kisses her, gently and lightly, not like the other night, holds hands over her hair, plays with the locks and twirls them in fingers, draws imaginary patterns on the skin.

-You know you not real, right? - Wanda frowns slightly.

-So sure? Oh, my little sister, - he embraces her shoulders, kissing the top of the head. - Wanda, Wanda, you know what you can do best, the best of the best? Create chaos. It is not the thoughts or the ability to move objects, it's you. You can do whatever you want. You change it. Reality.

-How smart! - Jokingly, she hits him in the ribs, and Pietro grimaces from the imaginary pain. - Well ... we have to change it then.

-Definitely. - And he leans in to kiss her again.

-Changes - are easy. - Wanda says to herself, not opening eyes, the whole body is numb of uncomfortable sitting, she can`t even stand it, and it is impossible to turn without hitting an elbow or a knee. - Fucking easy.

She closes eyes tight, concentrating on a single thought - Pietro.

He kisses her forehead, eyelids, temples. He embraces her in a dream. He holds her in his hands. They lie side by side in the dark, holding hands. He stiches up her wound in stomach. He bites skin on her shoulder. His photos stand on the mantelpiece. His clothes hang in her closet. His scent is on her.

All converge in one place, at one time, on a single man.

The walls of the house tremble, white paint pours in from the ceiling like snow, loud noise comes from the room, perhaps it's photos falling down from the mantelpiece, and she lies curled in the bath, covering head with hands just not to be killed by some large piece of ceiling from above and digs nails in hands, clenched into fists. And waiting for a miracle.

-Petro Pietro, Pietro ... - she repeats like a wound-up, the noise gets louder, it seems even a bathtub shakes beneath her, pain rises in bruised ribs, elbows, shoulders with each thrust.

Chandelier falls down somewhere in the living room with tinkling sound. Windows break. Wardrobe falls down. Plates are smashing. Wanda hears all this cacophony of sounds, but can`t stop. Change Reality? Yes, easy. When there is something worth it.

The ceiling above her crawls with a huge crack spreading, just a little more and it will collapse, crushing her, but Wanda can`t see it:

-Come back! - her power reaches the limit, the house is tearing apart and the ceiling falls down on her, but a clap comes in this moment, a familiar sense of moving when the body is sliding through the air fills her, and Wanda opens eyes, under the bed already. Pietro holds her. Alive.

-Fucking! Easy! – Wanda is laughing hysterically, unable to stop, she squeezes Pietro`s shirt tighter, in case he will disappear again. He is warm and smells of dust and blood, his clothes are tattered, but he is alive, and they could fit under the fucking bed, this bed has withstood one war and can do it again. Wanda wipes the blood running down her chin with some astonishment, it's her blood, dripping from the nose and head bursts out of dull pain.

-You're just ... just don`t ... – Wanda doesn`t has time to finish and faints, with the last effort grabbing Pietro`s hands even tighter than before. She won`t let him go anymore.

-You destroyed our house, Wanda. - The first thing Wanda hears, regaining consciousness. Her whole body hurts, she can`t move her neck, and her head seems to fall off, but the noise has stopped and nothing falls anymore. She finds herself already in bed, surrounded by the debris and pieces of ceiling, still clutching Pietro`s hands, he is sitting behind with concern in his eyes. - And you are breaking my hands now.

-Yeah. - Whispers Wanda, with not a slightest desire to let him go. But she has to, sniffs and wipes the blood. - I think I overdid it a little.

-Yeah. I think we have to look for another house. Far from here. - Pietro nods, suppressing a smile, trying to look serious. - And, perhaps, right now.

He takes her in his hands, grabbing, habitual movements are so familiar to her and so common that Wanda hugs his neck and settles head on his chest, listening to the familiar hiss of the air when he starts running, she sees changing landscapes, but I thinks about something entirely different now.

He's here. He is with her.

That homecoming… She did it.


End file.
